Ghigau 19

Sunday

 

The weather showed no sign of abating and the sun rose fierce and unfiltered, like some alien weapon sent to destroy the world. Newsreaders used sombre tones to report on rising deaths, melting road surfaces, shrinking reservoirs and hose pipe bans.  The population retreated indoors, muttering expletive-laden objections to the weather from behind closed curtains, as if the heatwave were a foreign interloper with the temerity to have moved in next door. The national conversation, meanwhile, had moved on from the government’s many inadequacies to global warming, and Britain’s predictably woeful unpreparedness for these extremes of temperature.

    Jake left the house early, carrying his rugby gear in his rucksack though he had no intention of wearing it that day. When he opened his car door, superheated air wafted from the cabin. He donned his sunglasses, climbed in, and turned the air-conditioning to maximum. Setting the sat-nav, he headed north-west, following its stuttering cursor. The roads were relatively quiet and he had only the occasional articulated lorry for company. He took the A41 and then the M1 and before long was crawling through a suburb of Watford, looking for the address where his rendezvous would take place.

    He had requested this meeting. He was uncomfortable with the turn things had taken. It was one thing to leak business information, perhaps providing a competitor with an advantage, though that would have been bad enough; but the personal nature of the questions he’d been asked were unnerving him, especially in light of what had happened with Nikki. He felt he was being dragged in to something dark. He had no idea what, but instinct told him it was something he had to get out of. He’d lied to Lenny when he said his father was sorting things out. The truth was that William Booth had told him to ‘stop fucking up’ and ‘be a man for once’ when he had asked to borrow money to solve his debt problem. He never had a ready answer for his father’s barbed comments, only formulating clever retorts later, in the small hours of the night, when there was no-one there to hear them.

    The address he was seeking turned out to be a bland, semi-detached house with nothing to distinguish it from its neighbours. It looked well kept, but completely anonymous. The downstairs windows appeared dark, and behind the upstairs windows, net curtains were drawn. To the side, beyond open gates, a single garage sat at the end of a short gravel drive. A vehicle was parked in front of it, a huge, dark green Bentley saloon with blacked out windows and the registration number AH 2. Jake parked his Audi on the street and got out.

    He went up to the front door and pressed the illuminated plastic doorbell prompting a shrill ring from inside the house. Through the frosted glass he saw a bulky shape move and the door opened. The man who opened it was not what Jake had been expecting — although he wasn’t sure what that was exactly — he was extremely large in every direction, with a shaven head and big hands that seemed to hang unnaturally low and looked ideally suited to punching faces. The man’s own face had been hit very hard at some point and the bridge of his nose appeared to have been squashed flat, leaving only the tip and nostrils protruding from his features in an incongruously dainty fashion.

    “Um, hi, I’m Jake Booth, I’m here to see, ah, Mr… Mr Smith?” Jake stammered.

    The big man said nothing but stood back and looked towards an inner door to the right which was ajar.

    Jake took that to mean he should enter and, with some trepidation, stepped inside, hoping he hadn’t made a huge mistake by insisting on this get together with his creditor. The taciturn giant closed the front door behind him and took up position in front of it, sentry like. 

    Jake was about to knock on the inner door when, to his surprise, a woman’s voice, low, cultured, and distinctly foreign said, ‘Come in’. 

    Jake didn’t see anyone at first. The cheap looking furnishings gave the impression they had been hastily purchased, as if perhaps for a rental property; beige corded carpet, brown fabric sofa and armchairs, a flat screen television and Ikea bookcases filled with paperback novels. It looked unlived in. He turned around and started when he saw, at the back of the room, with her back to him and staring out of the window at something beyond his view, a tall, slim young woman in a cream blazer-dress and matching patent, comma heels. Her right foot was turned outwards in an elegant flourish. Her blonde hair was styled in a chignon. Her left hand rested on her right hip and her right elbow on her left wrist. She held a cigarette in her right hand, the smoke from its tip curling upwards and forming whorls above her head.

    She spoke without turning round. “Please sit down Mr Booth, make yourself comfortable.” The voice was husky, a smokers voice, the accent East-European. Like a character from a Bond movie, Jake thought.

    Jake sat on one of the armchairs, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. The man-made fibres of the upholstery clung to his cotton trousers making them ruck underneath him. It didn’t help that he was sweating. Was this who he was meeting? Where was Mr Smith? Or was there actually even a Mr Smith? He cleared his throat. “Is ah…, is Mr Smith on his way?” He said trying to keep the nervous wobble out of his voice.

    The woman turned around. She was older than he’d assumed from her silhouette, perhaps early forties, and stunningly beautiful. So much so that Jake’s mouth opened just a little, involuntarily. Her eyes were catlike, with teal irises. Her lips, painted the palest of pinks, pouted naturally, and were slightly apart, revealing perfect white teeth.

    “I, am Mr Smith.” She let this sink in for a second while she approached Jakes chair, her movements graceful and feline, and stood in front of him, smiling. If anything she was even more beautiful close up.  “You’ll forgive me for the subterfuge Mr Booth, but the truth is I didn’t want anyone else to know about our meeting.” 

    “Oh I see,” Jake said. He didn’t see, he had no idea what was going on. He knew he was out of his depth though. Bentleys and beautiful women were not part of his general milieux.

    “It’s just that I was hoping to see Mr Smith about, about some money I sort of owe him. Well, not to him, but to… his organisation.” Jake explained clumsily.

    The woman smiled indulgently. “There is no Mr Smith.” She sat in the chair opposite him, straight backed, knees to one side, feet together. “And if it is your debt you want to talk about, you can talk to me.” She said, pointing at herself and drawing Jake’s eyes to her bosom.

    Jake looked doubtful. “I don’t understand.”

    “I shall say it plainly, Mr Booth. The money you owe, you owe to me. I have bought your debt.” The woman handed him a piece of paper. It was a receipt for £46500 on the headed stationery of Timpson Bailey & Lake, Solicitors.

    “I don’t understand,” he repeated, turning the paper over as if the answer would be on the reverse.

    “What is not to understand, I paid your debt, so now you owe me the money.” The woman said matter-of-factly, shrugging as if this was all quite normal.

    “But you can’t just buy someone’s debt? Can you?” Jake wasn’t so sure.

    “You can, and I have. I can assure you it is all above board, and perfectly legal.” Said the woman, brushing an imaginary speck from her bare knee and again drawing Jake’s eyes there.

    He stood up, feeling both intimidated and annoyed all at once, and held the paper in two fingers, as if were a dirty nappy. “Is this real? What is going on? Who are you?”  His voice was raised, but he didn’t shout. He was conscious of the tremble in his throat.

    The woman remained seated and calm but her gaze drifted across to the door, and when Jake turned around the giant was standing in the doorway, eying him like prey. The implication was clear enough. He sat down hastily.

    “My name is Anastasia Hulme, Mr Booth. My husband is Aidan Hulme.

    “The billionaire Aidan Hulme?” Said Jake, shocked.

    “Yes, the billionaire Aidan Hulme,” Anastasia said, waving an elegant hand dismissively.

    “But why on earth would you or Aidan Hulme be interested in my gambling debts?

    “I am interested, Mr Booth, because I purchased them from my husband. Admittedly he is not aware of that, but nevertheless that is the case.”

    Jake was nonplussed. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

    “That may be so, from your position. The fact is the outstanding debt is owed to me and if you don’t pay it, either in cash or in kind, I shall drag you through the courts and make sure that you lose every penny you have.” Anastasia might have been suggesting lunch at a nice restaurant for all the emotion she showed. 

    Jake’s face broke out in a confident smile. “Well, then I know you are lying, you cannot legally enforce a gambling debt.” He sat back triumphantly.

    Anastasia’s face betrayed nothing, she was so imperturbable it was unsettling. “That is true, unfortunately you were foolish enough to sign a contract converting the debt to a secured loan, secured against your assets, a loan that I know own.”

    Jake was immediately deflated. His shoulders drooped and he said in pleading tone,  “I don’t know what’s going on Mrs — Hulme. I don’t owe your husband anything. I’ve never met him.” His mind was churning, it can’t be coincidence that our new client is backed by Hulme, and now this.

    “I realise that,” said Anastasia Hulme. “Nevertheless, the money you owed was owed to my husband. He backed the card game, in fact he engineered your invitation and no doubt made sure you lost.” She leaned forward at this point. “And I want to know why.”

    “Why what?” Said Jake. He was utterly bewildered.

    “Why my husband would go to all that trouble, to put you in his debt. You and that silly little company you have. What was it he wanted from you?”

    “I don’t know, really I don’t. I didn’t even know he was behind it.” Jake’s instinct was to play dumb. He had no idea why exactly, but it just felt like the right thing to do. 

    “I know you have been contacted several times and your debt was reduced in return for information, “ Anastasia went on. “What information did you supply?”

    Jake was feeling increasingly claustrophobic. He stood up again and walked to the front window, looking out at the suburban street, with its prissy hedges and neatly trimmed trees, quiet and dull. The things that probably go on in these houses, he thought, no one would believe it. When he turned round, the man was back in the room, looking at his mistress, like a guard dog awaiting the command to sic.

    “Do I need to ask Eric to help you remember?” Anastasia said raising one exquisite eyebrow. She really was beautiful. 

    Jake held out his hands in a gesture of disbelief,  “Oh come on, what is this, a movie?             Eric took a step forward. 

    “Ok, ok,” said Jake, hastily sitting down, “I think it was business stuff, he has money in a company that we are also doing business with, it must be something to do with that.” He didn’t mention that his contact had seemed also interested in Lenny’s personal life.

    “What company?” Said Anastasia, impatient now.

    “They’re called GREnergy — they’re into renewable sources,” Jake said, “Wind-farms, solar, that kind of thing.”

    Anastasia motioned to Eric who fetched a notebook and pen and handed it to Jake. “Write it down,” she said.

    Jake obeyed, saying as he wrote, “I don’t understand what’s going on here. How do I pay my debt off? And what did you mean by ‘payment in kind’ ? He was conscious of gabbling too fast and sounding panicky.

    “Well, you did lose the money and yes, you will have to pay it off.” Anastasia looked at him appraisingly. “But that is something we can work out, I’m sure. You’ve been helpful up to now, and, if you continue to be, I’m sure we won’t have a problem — Jake,” Anastasia said, smiling at him in a way that made his insides lurch. “What other information did you supply my husband with?”

    “I didn’t know I was supplying your husband with anything. I didn’t even know I owed him money. I thought I lost a card game and owed money to the bookie that backed me.”

    “What other information?” Anastasia repeated, her accent thickening with frustration.

    Jake’s face reddened, he was no match for people like this. “They were interested in my business partner for some reason,” he blurted out. “His wife has gone missing and I asked them if they had anything to do with it. They seemed cagey, I don’t know, I might be imagining it.”

    “Your business partner?” Anastasia seemed genuinely surprised.

    “Lenny Talbot, we started the business together. He’s a good guy.” Jake suddenly wanted Anastasia to know that.

    “Lenny Talbot?” She confirmed.

    “Yes,” Jake said quietly.

    “And his wife has disappeared?” She said.

    “Yes, Nikki — you might have seen it on the news? 

    “I have been in America for the last three months Mr Booth.” 

    Jake nodded nervously, as if he knew lots of people who went to America for three months at a  time. 

    “She’s been gone almost a week, just went to work and didn’t come home one night.” Jake said, feeling like a traitor. “I had the stupid notion that the people I owed money to had something to do with it, I don’t know. It was just a coincidence I guess.” He wasn’t sure why he was even telling this woman these things, except that somehow she made him want to, and, he supposed, because he was afraid of the large man.

    Anastasia sat back for a moment thinking, then leaned forward. “Let me explain something. As far as the solicitor handling your debt is concerned you are off the hook. Should anyone other than me contact you, you say nothing from now on, do you understand?”

    “Not really,” Jake said truculently.

    Anastasia ignored him and continued. “I will provide you with a new contact number, and you will provide information to that number and that number only. Other than that, you don’t mention me to anyone, especially your business partner, or Eric here will pay you a visit.”

    Jake looked at her aghast, he didn’t know what to say. Obviously there were bigger things in play here, and he was just a small piece in a larger puzzle, but what that puzzle was, he had no idea. 

    “So, do I have to make regular payments or…?” He felt nauseous and his throat was constricted. Weirdly, he realised he wanted to keep talking, he didn’t want Anastasia to leave, he wanted to understand more. He had never met anyone like her before. She frightened and excited him at the same time.

    Anastasia stood up and smoothed down her dress, her nude-painted nails were long and curved. She stood close to Jake, he could smell her perfume mixed with the tang of tobacco. He felt a stirring in his loins. She was incredibly alluring.

    She smiled, and this time he thought he saw warmth in her expression, perhaps even sympathy. Then, as quick as it came, it was gone. 

    “I’ll be in touch Jake.” With that she motioned to Eric who followed her out of the room.    A minute or two later Jake heard the menacing bass-note of the Bentley’s engine as it backed out of the driveway and then pulled away.

    He stood for a while, wondering what had just happened. He looked around the room. What was he supposed to do now? Lock up and leave? After a minute or two he did just that, making sure the front door was firmly shut behind him.